Loyalty
by gingerdream
Summary: Voldermort has won the war and captured Ron, tortured Harry and put Hermoine to death. The only thing Ron is thinking about is why him? Warning will contain slash. Previously known as 'Red is the kiss'
1. Prologue

I hated him and his touch. Why did Harry lose? Life without my best friend is unimaginable. Life with his killer is closer to hell. Two hours since I heard the news of my fate and loss. I do not even know what to think anymore.

I watched has Hermoine was killed in front of my eyes. The moment she took her last breathe, I knew it was over. He keeps Harry around and tortures him almost daily. I do not know how my brother in everything but blood is handling it.

He barely says a word to me. At night we lie on the same bed. During the day he is away on business. I wonder what he wants from me? I'm the most dull member of the Golden Trio.

I'm not as smart as Hermoine. I do not have the natural leadership qualities that Harry possess. I was just there. I don't know why he wants me and I don't plan to find out.


	2. Chapter 1: More than a casual fuck

**Chapter 1: More than a casual fuck**

Confusion is not an easy emotion to deal with. Confusion was never something that I could deal with. Chaos never was a problem with six other sibling chaos was something I thrived upon. Our small house ensured that all of us were brought up with enough love to fill oceans.

People say that confusion and chaos go hand in hand. I beg to disagree. Chaos, I could handle, there was always order to be found. Little constants that proved that not everything was lost.

Confusion on the other hand had no order and required you to make your own. Right now, I Ronald Billius Weasley am confused.

He kisses me with such care, I almost forget he is not human. I don't know why he chose me. Hermione, Harry are so much more beautiful and smarter than I am. Yet, he chose me. A Weasley brat as Lucuis Malfoy claims me to be.

He makes me forget my worries and fears. His cold hand traces slowly up my arm. A grip that tightens spontaneously and makes me moan. Three months and I'm still not used to his care. The undivided attention he showers me.

I need him like a fire needs oxygen. He is my sun, my moon, my stars, my world. A moment without him would seem like a year. I try to stop these thoughts from conquering my mind. That is a difficult task. He consumes my thoughts.

His hand leaves my arm and wanders lower. He mutters a few quiet words. His red eyes flash with pleasure as my clothes disappear. I make a grab for the blankets to protect what little modesty I have left. He-who-must-not-be-named chuckles at my attempt. I freeze for a moment.

I cannot escape this prison. That much he has assured me of. He walks slowly around me. The wheels of his mind are spinning. I can feel how much he wants to make me scream. I do not know whether it is in pleasure or in pain. It could be both.

"Ronald, remove that blanket," he orders.

I refuse his request silently. The fight has not left me just yet. This is a form of defiance no matter how small or silent the act is. He moves closer and my grip on the blanket tightens.

He drops down onto the bed next to me. With surprising force he turns my body towards his. Minutes later, I am moaning into his mouth begging him for more. This always happens. One minute I have all the self-control I need the next minute, I'm a moaning mess in his arms.

My grip on the blanket does not exist now. A moment later I am straddling him. A motion that has become very familiar to me. He knows what to do to make me give him exactly what he wants. And I cannot deny him for I want him too.

I want to be that moaning mess underneath the blankets. It is moments like these that convince me he is human. The way he stares into my eyes when I come for him and only him. This is life and love.

We change positions and once again he is on top of me. Tonight he wishes to be sweet. The sounds that are drawn from my mouth are those of pleasure. He starts slow, tracing his fingers on every inch of my body. He is focused, determined. He could make me come just like that. My back arches at an impossible angle. My hips rut against his clothed crotch as if trying to get off on any friction possible.

Today he is merciful and does not mind. Instead he encourages it. The words he uses makes me feel loved. Unconditionally loved but he claims he does not know of it. I know better he loves his snake, he admires Grindlewald and even respects Dumbledore. If that isn't the root of love then I don't know what is.

His snake slides onto our bed. For a moment, I forget the passion and freeze in fear. After spiders, the next creature I hate is the snake. The feeling is mutual that much I know. The snake on the bed is a major turn off but still my cock would not deflate. Why? His hands are gripping and pulling. Rubbing my cock as a finger inserts its way in my hole. The pain is still fresh and raw down there. He does not slide his fingers in deep. Just enough to get me stimulated and begging.

Suddenly excruciating pain is accompanied by a tightness in my navel. I want to come but the flippin' man has his two fingers wrapped in an 'o' shape around my cock. He is going to make me beg for release. I'm not that easy, my lord. I was sorted in Gryffindor for a reason. I do not beg. Kiss assing was a Slytherin trait and Gryffindor does not kiss ass.

"You know I can last all night," I stupidly said challenging him. Daring his mind to get me to beg.

I did not have to wait long. I didn't have to know he used an enchantment to feel the effects of the spell. My mouth and nostrils became blocked. I could not breathe let alone speak. I looked at him trying to translate the sheer panic in my eyes.

I believed I had so much to live for I did not want to die. I still believed the The Light had something to fight for. Moine and Harry, Neville, my family, the DA and even crazy Loony I still believed they believe in me. I slowly got up as far as he would allow me. I gently squeezed the arm that held my cock. He just looked expecting more, so he released my breath and bit down hard on my collar bone. I winced as he drew blood.

"Please let me come," I begged as he gently lapped the wound.

"Please what,"

"Please, my lord," I answered back.

Like I said before he was felling merciful today. With a painful and exhausting scream, thick strands of white cum spluttered out.

There were no sweet words just my breath coming out in short puffs and his preparations for bed. Tearing has soul did a number to his body. I barely felt it as the sheets of the bed vanquished around me and were replaced by a thick Weasley quilt.

Nostalgia found its way through my nose. It was as if the whole family was with me on Sunday night. All of us on the biggest sofa in the house trying to keep as much blanket as possible. The wireless in the background with a singer I would never learn to appreciate. I missed those family moments. As I got older Harry and Hermione became part of that picture. Love was never easy but it was so worth it.

He slid down on the opposite side of the bed. The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"I want a family. I want to be the parent my parents were," I said.

His red eyes flew open and he pinned me down on the bed.

"I guess we just have to fuck long and hard enough, no," His eyes glinted with dominance.

A/N: Chapter 1. Tell me if you want an Mpreg or not.


	3. Chapter 2:Broken

**Chapter 2: Broken**

The warm body that pulls me closer and makes me feel loved. My shoulder throbs gently reminding me of unspeakable passion. My face clashes with the red hair. The window flutters gently letting in the softest of breezes. I close my eyes in fascination as I feel the soft kisses of the wind across my skin.

The wind and I go hand in hand. The seemingly destructive force of nature reminds be of the Burrow. A place where no matter how many chores are left to do or how angry mum is there will always be time for quidditch. I gently unwind my Lord's body from my own. God, I love it. I love mumbling that he is mine.

My body aches with a pain that can only be described as delicious. I pull the heaving blankets off my naked skin. I arch my back as my feet touches the floor. The cold of the floor rushes up my soles in order to grab away the warmth of my body.

I let my eyes grow used to the darkness in our room. I walk into a slate grey wall which opens up into a bathroom. First things first I need do get clean. The dried cum still lined my body. Shower that is what I needed brushing my teeth can wait.

After living most of my life in the Burrow scalding hot water during a shower was a luxury. We didn't have enough money to pay for hot water all the time. We only got in one salary at the end of the month. We had to survive with it. I still kept to it. Cold-water showers are something I felt refreshed by.

After allowing the feeling of clean to capture me for a second longer, I begin getting dressed. I prefer muggle clothes. They are easier to wear and more practical for the life I lead. My Lord on the other hand detests them with a passion. I will never understand why. Muggle clothes are brilliant. I saunter across the room with a towel tied to my waist. I rummage through my side of the unnecessarily large closet.

The scars that line my body are easily hidden. The idea was Hermoine's. Horcrux hinting could drain the life out of any man. It is a bleak prospect and without the right ingrediants a near impossible one. It was one of those days. We were at a safe muggle town. It felt brilliant not to wonder around in any disguises.

We got inked that day as a sign of our friendship. The experience was painful but worthwhile. The feeling of accomplishment is rival to none. The tattoo travelled around my back in thick strokes. The quality was not the best but I loved it because it was a testament of my love.

The emotions revolving around Harry and Hermoine seemed to wake me up. I feel the familiar tightness in my chest and I try to control my breathing. The room starts shrinking in and I'm trying to argue with myself to calm down. I sink to the floor and try to take quick calming breaths. The door of the wardrobe is closed but it is soon opened by a violent force.

By now, the tears have started to make their appearance. They just aimlessly rolled down my cheeks. I hated the man I lived with. I hate him so much. He killed my friend and mercilessly tortured the other to the point of insanity. I remember the day even more clearly than I remember how my arachnophobia occurred.

The quick green light that flew across the room as the colour in Harry's face disappeared. Hermoine's child-like state after screaming for relief for hours while being tortured. As cruel, as it sounds she was better off dead now.

The bruises on my skin make me want to scratch my skin off. Was I crazy to think even for a moment that he loved me? This man does not know the meaning of the word. He hurt my friends and family. Is there anything I would do against him?

Slowly I begin rocking back and forth on the floor. I don't know for how long I stay paralysed. Goose flesh dots my skin but I barely feel the cold. My fingers trace the tattoo trying to keep myself calm. I could have been gone for hours or minutes. It really does not matter anymore.

He walked in at this point the famous Weasley anger started sprouting within me.

"I hate you. Do you know that," I snarled snapping my head forward.

He merely looked at me then went back to picking out a set of robes. I know being naked is not threatening at all but I made sure he felt my anger. Waves of anger rolled off my body. It was going to be one of those days. I pulled on a Weasley sweater and an old pair of jeans. He hated seeing me in muggle clothes. I on the other hand could not care less.

I walked out feeling slightly composed. I need to see Hermione. Over the past couple of months, I've become familiar with the building. The solid bars of the dungeon hid Hermoine from the sight of the world.

My friend was not the girl she used to be. This version of her was so scared and broken. I sat down next to the bars and watched my friend sleep. Her body curled up tightly.

My mind was assaulted with images about her. For a long time my thoughts drifted to Hermoine and when we were dating. The first time we had sex and the sweet clumsiness of that moment.

I remember clearly her chocolate eyes that would spark when she was talking about something she was passionate about. Or how she knew when a spell would come out of her wand perfectly. Hermoine was just as arrogant as a Malfoy but she was entitled to the role. I even knew her secret motto to life.

"Don't act if you can't back it up," Hermoine would say.

Now the greatest mind of my generation was tired. Bellatrix messed up her mind in such a way that she could no longer think clearly. But some days I could see the progress she was making like now. I watched silently as her hand flew to solve the Rubix cube. Fingers that were sure of the pieces. I knew Hermione was not gone merely forgotten.

My Lord or not Hermione's life was significantly more important than mine.

A/N: Well we got to see Ron's conflicting feelings. Pop a review and tell me what you think.


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